


We won’t be like the others

by justhockey



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunk Sex, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Insecure Evan "Buck" Buckley, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24376492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justhockey/pseuds/justhockey
Summary: It hits him like the ladder truck crushing his leg, like the wall of water rushing over him, and it feels like such a physical presence that Buck actually flinches.He’s just lost everything.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 690





	We won’t be like the others

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _Rain_ by Ben Platt.
> 
> Content warning in end notes.

When Buck wakes up, his first thought is that he drank way too much last night. It feels like there is a whole marching band playing inside of his skull and he’s convinced that if he moves so much as a finger, he’ll throw up. 

His second thought is _fuck._ Because Eddie is sleeping next to him and neither of them are wearing clothes, and when he thinks back he can vaguely remember the taste of Eddie’s mouth on his tongue. 

So yeah. _Fuck_ is pretty accurate. 

He wants to get out of Eddie’s bed immediately, but he genuinely does think he’ll throw up if he moves too fast. So for a few minutes he lies there completely still, praying to god or Zeus, or like, whoever the fuck is out there to just let Eddie stay sleeping. Because this is bad with a capital _B_ and Buck has literally zero idea of how he’s supposed to fix this flaming shit show. 

He thinks back to the night before. Christopher is away at summer camp so Buck had dragged Eddie out to a bar to get absolutely hammered. Eddie doesn’t really drink around Chris, at least, not more than a few beers every so often. So, by default, Buck doesn’t drink that much either. But with absolutely no responsibilities for the next two weeks, it had seemed like the perfect opportunity. 

And Buck had been well aware that taking Eddie out would also mean he’d have to watch beautiful women flirting with him. But listen. Buck _knows,_ okay? He knows he has never and _will_ never have a chance with his best friend. 

He accepted long ago that he’s destined to fall in love with people who’ll never love him back in the same way. And with literally anyone else, that would fucking suck. But Eddie is just - he’s _Eddie._ He’s Buck’s best friend, and sure he’d love to be more, but it’s enough exactly as it is. He gets to have Eddie and Christopher in his life, and never for a single second has he genuinely considered asking for more. 

(Sure, he’s _imagined_ it. Thought about what it would be like to share school runs and wash the dishes together, and like, do laundry or whatever, for the rest of their lives. Side by side like they’ve always been, but _more._ But no. It’s always just that - his imagination.)

Eddie and Christopher, this mis-match little family that Buck has found himself, they’re too important for him to ever risk losing. Which tells him absolutely _nothing_ about why he’s in bed with said best friend. 

He remembers the bar, and the too many tequila shots. He remembers the stunning red head who had sidled up to Eddie and started flirting with him. But he also remembers Eddie telling her he wasn’t interested, turning his back on her to continue talking to Buck. He can still feel the heat of Eddie’s hand on his forearm when he closes his eyes. 

They danced, crazy at first, laughing at each other in embarrassment. But then. The music had changed and _fuck,_ Buck had pulled Eddie close, let their bodies sway in time to the music, their hips flush together. 

He remembers lips and teeth, their breath mixing together, but can’t recall who made the first move. And then somehow they were back at Eddie’s place, pulling at each other’s clothes and hair, falling into bed desperately. 

Shit. 

What if Eddie was too drunk? Like yeah, Buck was absolutely gone too, but still. What if he’d taken advantage somehow? The anxiety starts to build in his chest, like when you roll a snowball down hill and it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. Soon, it’s so big that Buck can’t breathe past it. 

He sits up and swings his legs out of the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements or sounds. It takes a while to find the clothes that he’d discarded all around the room last night, but eventually he’s fully dressed, and Eddie is still sleeping. 

He tip-toes through the house, finds his shoes by the door where he must have kicked them off, and slips his feet into them without bothering with the laces. When the door finally clicks closed behind him, Buck lets out a sigh of relief. 

Buck doesn’t realise until he’s walking through the front door of his apartment that he’s wearing Eddie’s shirt. He’d slipped it on instead of his own in the rush to get out of the house, and it shouldn’t be a big deal, they’ve shared clothes before. Except now they’ve shared much more than that, and suddenly it’s all too much. 

He falls to his knees in front of the toilet and empties the entire contents of his stomach. 

Once Buck has coughed up all of last nights alcohol, he stands on shaky legs and moves to brush his teeth. He cleans away the bitter taste of his hangover, but he can’t get rid of the taste of Eddie’s skin on his tongue. 

Buck leans on the sink and lets his head hang down between his shoulders. The hangover nausea has passed, but a heaviness still rests in his stomach. He forces himself to look in the mirror and what he sees, to be quite honest, is a fucking _mess._ His curls are unruly and his eyes are bloodshot and watery, with dark, bruise-like shadows blooming underneath them. He looks like a man who’s made a terrible mistake. 

When Buck looks in the mirror, he knows what he sees. Blonde hair, blue eyes, birth mark. And physically, he knows that’s what other people see too. But Buck also knows that he shows a different version of himself to every single person in his life. 

He’s spent so long afraid that people will leave him, that he’s learned to adapt. So now he shows people whatever they need to see. He’ll act however, _be_ whoever people need him to be, just so they’ll stick around. 

He looks in the mirror and sees a collection of features, but Buck has no fucking idea what he looks like. 

It hits him like the ladder truck crushing his leg, like the wall of water rushing over him, and it feels like such a physical presence that Buck actually flinches. 

He’s just lost everything. 

Quickly shedding his clothes, he clambers into the shower and turns the temperature all the way up. He’s desperate to wash away the night, scrub the memory of Eddie’s hands off his body, as if that could somehow erase the terrible mistake he’s made. 

Eddie is going to wake up filled with regrets, filled with anger towards Buck for taking advantage or ruining their friendship, or something. Buck isn’t sure what, exactly. He just knows that Eddie is going to be mad at him. He’s felt Eddie’s wrath before, and Buck just isn’t sure that he can survive it again. 

And it seemed so much easier to sneak away before Eddie woke up, than stick around and wait for him to ask Buck to leave. At least this way, Buck can almost convince himself that it was his choice. It wasn’t, Buck will never in his life want to walk away from Eddie, but he’s just so tired of being the one who’s left behind that he decided to get a head start. 

The water washes over him and leaves his skin red raw. He doesn’t cry. Buck has learned that crying gets him nothing except a headache. So he turns off the water and changes into a t-shirt that isn’t Eddie’s, and he climbs right back into bed.

**—————**

Eddie texts him once, just a _?_ but Buck doesn’t reply. He doesn’t know what he could even say to begin to fix all the ways that he’s fucked up. So when Buck arrives at the fire station the next morning, and Eddie is sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone, it’s the first time he’s seen Eddie since he bailed on him.

Buck clears his throat. “Uh, hi.”

Eddie’s whole body goes rigid the second the words leave Buck’s mouth, but he doesn’t even glance away from his phone. In fact, he doesn’t acknowledge Buck for their entire ten hour shift. And Buck probably deserves it, for taking advantage, or for leaving, or for ruining everything. But it hurts all the same. 

It had always felt like a blessing, that Buck and Eddie knew each other so well that they didn’t even have to speak for the other to know what they needed. Now it just feels like a curse, because Buck doesn’t get the chance to ask for the jaws or bolt cutters, Eddie is just there with them. He’s desperate to hear Eddie talk to him, even if it’s meaningless, even if he’s mad. 

He feels sick. Eddie hasn’t looked at Buck all shift, and now he’s leaving and Buck can’t remember the last time they went this long without talking. 

(He can. It was the lawsuit. But Buck is trying very hard not to associate that memory with this. It makes things even scarier.)

“Drive safe,” he calls out, just for something to say. 

Eddie doesn’t turn around. 

“Damn Buck, what did you do?” Chim asks. 

It’s not like the rest of the team hadn’t noticed how they’d been around each other, it was too glaringly obvious to ignore. But they’d still done their jobs and their professionalism hadn’t been compromised, so really Bobby has no reason to talk to them about it. Chim though, he’s probably the nosiest person Buck has ever met, so it figures that he’d be the first one to ask. 

“Shut up,” is all Buck can manage to say. 

If it was anything else, Buck would have joked with him. But this is Eddie, and it’s Christopher, and it’s Buck’s entire happiness in ruins. So he gets in his jeep and leaves without another word. 

Buck doesn’t go back to his apartment. He can’t stand to be there, in a place so empty it feels smothering, so silent his ears ring with it. He just drives, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight he can pretend he doesn’t see them shaking. 

It suddenly feels like he has nowhere to go. The apartment had never felt like home, but neither had Abby’s, really. The SEALs, South America, college, and his bedroom in his parents house - they hadn’t felt like home either. The only place Buck has ever been where his muscles instantly relax, where he feels warm and safe, is the Diaz home. 

And now he isn’t welcome there. 

But Eddie, he’s forgiven him before, hasn’t he? For the lawsuit and for losing his son. So maybe. _Maybe_ if Buck just apologises, then things could go back to being okay. Probably not the same, he thinks he’s broken that for good. But similar, perhaps. Buck is honestly willing to take anything that Eddie will give him. And really, hasn’t that been the case all along?

He’s finds himself parking outside of Eddie’s house without ever having made the decision to drive there. The route is just muscle memory by this point, he’s driven it so many times before. 

Eddie’s truck is out front and the lights are on inside, so Buck knows that he’s home. But he just can’t force himself to get out of the car. 

It’s weird. He’s so angry with himself for fucking things up like he always does, and he’s so desperate to make this right that his teeth ache with it. But it somehow feels like the not knowing is safer. Because sure, he knows that Eddie is mad. But until he knocks on that door, there’s still the possibility of being forgiven. Once he’s crossed the threshold though, there’s no going back. 

Schrödinger’s Eddie: both broken _and_ fixed, until he slams the fucking door in Buck’s face. 

But the feeling of stasis won’t last forever, it won’t remain unchanging the longer that Buck ignores this. This isn’t some experiment, it’s real life. And Eddie is a real person who needs a real apology if Buck stands any chance of rectifying this. 

He knocks on the door and waits. It takes less than thirty seconds for Eddie to open it, then when he does, the expression on his face makes it clear that he wishes he hadn’t. Makes it clear that Buck is no longer welcome here. 

“Please don’t slam the door in my face.”

Buck says it just as Eddie is beginning to close the door. Thankfully, Eddie pauses. 

“What do you want?” Eddie asks.

He sounds so closed off, like Buck’s first day back after the lawsuit when Eddie had avoided looking at him and said _’nothing you need to be concerned about’._ Buck feels like he’s lost before the race has even started. 

“Can I come in?” He asks, and he know he sounds desperate but he’s so far beyond caring. 

Eddie doesn’t answer, he doesn’t even meet Buck’s eyes, he just steps back and holds the door open so Buck can walk inside. He sighs in relief. Small victories. 

“Eddie, I’m sorry,” Buck says the second the door is closed. 

Eddie shakes his head. “Which part are you sorry _for_ , exactly?”

And he’s making Buck work for it, but that’s okay. Buck deserves it. 

“Whichever part you’re mad at me for.”

It’s true, kind of. But he knows the second it leaves his mouth that it sounds wrong, like he doesn’t care, like he’s apologising just for the sake of it and not because he actually means it.

“That’s not an apology, Buck!” Eddie scoffs, throwing his hands up in frustration. 

And he’s right, it’s not. It’s just. Buck means well, he really does. But he’s anxious and so scared of losing more people that he loves. Buck shows people the kind of person _they_ want him to be so that they’ll stick around, and now he’s trying to give Eddie the apology he wants so he won’t leave. 

But if anyone has ever seen the real Buck, seen past the layers and the facade, then it’s Eddie. And Eddie deserves so much more than Buck is giving him right now. 

“Fuck, I know, okay? Just. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for jeopardising our friendship over a stupid, drunk hookup.”

The words taste bitter in his mouth and his fists clench by his sides as he says them. It feels like he’s betraying himself, like every part of him is screaming in denial over the way he dismisses what happened. 

(It _was_ stupid, and they _were_ drunk, but still. It was so much more because it was with Eddie.)

“Is that what it was? Just a stupid drunk hook up?” Eddie asks. 

His expression and voice is carefully schooled. Buck knows he’s trying not to give anything away, but he’s an expert in all things Eddie Diaz. He can hear the slight lilt in his voice, can see the faint lines between his brows. 

He wants to say no, wants to be honest and just risk telling Eddie the truth. But both options seem equally risky, and he’d rather have his heart broken once than twice. 

“...yes?”

It sounds like a question because he’s so unsure of himself and what Eddie wants to hear from him. 

It’s minute, almost imperceptible, but Buck is so attuned to Eddie that it feels like a slap in the face when Eddie’s shoulders slump. 

He decides then and there that he’s going to say what he wants to say, and not what he thinks Eddie wants to hear. 

“No,” he amends, his voice more certain this time. 

“What?” Eddie asks. 

Eddie’s eyes are wide now, his lips parted slightly, and he takes the tiniest of steps towards Buck. 

Buck can feel his heart racing, is surprised that Eddie can’t hear the way it rattles the cage of his chest. This is it. The moment that they either fix things, or Buck shatters them beyond repair. But it’s too late to turn back now, he’s said the words so he has to run with it. 

“Eddie, _fuck_ , when I woke up next to you I was terrified,” Buck confesses. 

“Why?” Eddie asks. 

He sounds genuinely shocked, and maybe even a little hurt, but his guard slowly seems to be slipping. And if Eddie can be vulnerable, then so can Buck. 

“Because it’s every thing I’ve wanted since the day I met you.”

The admission is huge and Buck is honestly just relieved he didn’t choke on the words. His hands are shaking and he can’t bring himself to look up from the floor. This feels too big, too much. That’s always been Buck’s problem. He’s loud and brash and _honest._ He suffocates people. But Eddie isn’t running away, he’s taking another step closer. 

“Then why did you leave?” Eddie asks.

His voice breaks, and Buck thinks his heart does along with it. God, he doesn’t want Eddie to be hurting, and he _definitely_ doesn’t want to be the cause of it. But he doesn’t know what this _means._ Doesn’t understand why Eddie seems sad that Buck left without so much as a goodbye.

“Because people always leave _me_ , Eddie,” Buck says. “But I’ve _tried_ , fuck, I tried so hard to be exactly what you and Christopher needed so you wouldn’t be another person to walk away. And then I went and did the _one_ thing that I knew would make me lose you.”

His voice is quivering and the tears that he hadn’t let himself cry yesterday are now threatening to fall. He feels cracked open, exposed, helpless. He’s completely at the mercy of Eddie, and he just has to trust that Eddie won’t do any more damage than Buck has already done to himself. 

But slowly, Eddie walks towards Buck, and he doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of him. He ducks a little, chasing Buck’s eye contact, and when he’s caught it he sighs. Eddie’s hands come up and rest on his shoulders, and Buck feels his entire body tremble. 

“Evan, you are _never_ going to lose me and Christopher. Listen to me - you are enough exactly as you are. You don’t have to make yourself into the person you think we need, we just want _you_ ,” Eddie insists. “ _I_ just want you.”

Buck’s erratic heart falls still for a moment, and everything goes quiet. 

“What?” 

“Come on, you had to know?” Eddie says. “Evan, I’m so in love with you.”

Everything is still, and then suddenly it’s like everything is spinning, like Buck can only see in kaleidoscopes. It’s not possible. There’s no way Eddie is actually saying what Buck is hearing. 

“I-what?” He stumbles over the words, in too much shock to form anything coherent. 

“I wanted to be with you that night, it wasn’t a mistake, Buck. I love you.”

Eddie’s hands move from his shoulders, up his neck, and cup either side of Buck’s face. He can’t hold the tears back now, not when Eddie is holding him so gently and looking at him like he’s something precious. Not when he’s saying the words Buck had dreamed of hearing for so long. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers. “I’m so sorry I didn’t show you how much you mean to me.”

He leans forward and rests his forehead against Bucks. 

“You love me?” Buck asks, because he’s still not sure he can believe it. 

“So much, mi amor,” Eddie promises. 

“Oh,” Buck murmurs. 

And then they’re kissing. It’s different from the first times, they’re both sober and this is slow and gentle and so full of promise. But then Buck thinks back to that night, to the way Eddie had held him and the way his lips ghosted along Buck’s throat. And suddenly he realises that Eddie had been trying to tell him then, if only Buck had listened. 

“I love you too,” Buck says breathlessly. 

“I know,” Eddie teases, a smug grin on his face. 

Buck rolls his eyes, and there’s an instant change in the atmosphere. It’s like they snap straight back to being themselves, but so much more now. Buck laughs and shoves at Eddie’s shoulder, but then pulls him back in for another kiss. 

And Buck knows that this time, things are different. This time, Eddie will stay.

**Author's Note:**

> CW: a character is sick because of a hangover, but the description isn’t graphic and it’s only briefly mentioned.


End file.
